Tonight, as is the routine, when MP and I arrived home she bolted from the car and ran to Grammy and Poppy’s house. And just as I always do, I packed up backpack, lunchbox, sippy cup, artwork, boots, the mail, my bag, etc., and hauled the lot to our house next door.
I dropped everything at the door. I started MP’s bath. I went to the bathroom. I let the dog out. I walked out the door to go get MP.
And when Grammy asked if we wanted to stay for spaghetti dinner I said yes without hesitation.
An hour later, our bellies full, MP and I made our way home, across the driveway and up the snow-packed walk. Once in the door, out of habit, I walked directly to the bathroom to start MP’s bath. And a sick panic welled in the pit of my stomach.
Suffice it to say, the bathroom was effectively submerged. Water, water, everywhere, and not a mop in sight. I may or may not have used a few choice words. MP’s first reaction, on the other hand was to pull up her pant legs and puddle-stomp. Okay, I did a little stomping too.
But then I remembered my little Christmas gift to myself this year, sitting new and unused in the laundry room.
And now, I am officially a devout member of the Cult of the ShamWow. (And, all right, I DO love Vince’s nuts.)